


Jukebox Musical

by Shinoayeka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hurt/Comfort, Post-War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-16 17:25:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18526177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinoayeka/pseuds/Shinoayeka
Summary: After an unforgivable offense and ten years of estrangement, there seems little hope of trust between the wealthy, brooding Draco Malfoy and the passionate woman he spurned. Brought back together by circumstance, Hermione Granger is willing to extend her former flame an olive branch, but when forces beyond their control test the strength of her tenuous newfound trust in him, will he be able to prove himself and win another chance at her heart?





	1. Creep

_When you were here before_

_couldn't look you in the eye_

_you're just like an angel_

_your skin makes me cry_

_***_

The first time they passed each other in the hallway at work she flinched and it was like she'd slapped him in the face. She recovered quickly, turning the involuntary movement into a graceful shrug that sent vibrations through her tumultuous brown curls. The brief flash of pain in her eyes dropped away, replaced by a polite, well-rehearsed smile. The solicitor she walked with seemed unaware of the slight irregularity in her demeanor.

Draco wasn't fooled. A single wince and every painful, horrific memory he'd worked so hard to bury came bubbling to the surface, stinking and rancid. All the things he'd done, or hadn't done, every vicious, hateful word that ever crossed his lips crowded in his mind like so many grindylows, all swarming to strike.

And so he'd done what any reasonable man would've-- he retreated to his office and began avoiding that wing of the ministry entirely whenever possible. It was better, he was certain, if they saw as little of each other as possible. She reminded him too much of his own past inadequacies, and he had worked too hard to become the man he was now to stand for it.

***

_You float like a feather_

_in a beautiful world_

_I wish I was special_

_You're so fuckin' special_

_***_

The second time they met was many months later, at a public charity event for the department of magical creatures. She was there, of course, advocating her SPEW agenda to anyone who would listen. Draco saw her first and ducked into an alcove to avoid being spotted. Unfortunately, he'd been unable to avoid nearly trampling Luna Lovegood, who'd apparently gotten there first.

"Hello Malfoy," she said absently, picking at a loose thread on her robes, much to the annoyance of its enchanted embroidery, which kept pulling the thread out of her grip at the last moment so she never quite seemed to get a good hold. "Have you come in here to hide from the blibbering humdingers as well?"

Draco swallowed nervously, unwilling to admit he was afraid of running into _her_ , but then Luna’s eyes focused on the room beyond Draco's shoulders, and a flash of recognition lit her eyes.

"Ah," she said softly, looking up into his eyes for the first time since he'd bumped into her, "so it's like that, is it?" She held his gaze with eyes that knew too much and Draco shivered. She always seemed to see right through him.  It was unnerving at the best of times---tonight, it was downright creepy.

He turned to confirm what he already knew, and there she was, shining like a perfectly faceted jewel as she charmed a minister at one elbow and a private investor at the other. Ruthless, cunning, she was everything he wanted and more, and he'd blown it so thoroughly that the odds of them ever being even professionally acquainted was an almost laughable pipe dream.

"You could apologize, you know," Luna said to the air beside him while he stared in slack-jawed admiration of Hermione Granger.

"I don't deserve forgiveness," Draco replied bitterly, replacing the mask of his composure.

"Perhaps not," Luna hedged, "but have you ever considered that she deserves to hear it anyway?"

Draco stilled at the thought. He _hadn't_ thought of that. He'd just assumed that staying away from her would be what she wanted most from him, after the way things between them had ended, that summer so long ago.

***

_I don't care if it hurts_

_I wanna have control_

_I want a perfect body_

_I want a perfect soul_

_***_

"Does she not also deserve to live her life without being reminded of the pain I caused?"

"Are you afraid she will remember, or afraid you will?"

"When did you become so wise, Lovegood?"

"When did you start avoiding difficult questions, Malfoy?"

He scratched behind his head and sighed. "Let's say you're right, that I don't want to remember? What's so bad about that?"

"Nothing at all, so long as you're fine hiding like an augurey every time Hermione crosses your path."

"I'm not hiding from her, I just stepped aside to take a break from the party, is all," he protested weakly, not even believing his own words as thry left his lips.

"Well then if that's the case," she said sharply and pulled his arm, dragging him out of the safe seclusion of the alcove and into the light. "Hermione! It's wonderful to see you. I hope the knargles haven't been giving you trouble?"

Hermione smiled warmly at Luna, her eyes crinkling with familiarity and fondness at the corners. When her gaze drifted to Draco, still on Luna's arm, though, her eyes flattened, all trace of emotion clamped down into some unknowable void as the mask she wore solidified around her, social armor to hide her true self. "Malfoy," she said shortly, directing a curt nod over his shoulder before pointedly turning away.

"Luna, it is wonderful as always to see you!" Her offered embrace was accepted gladly by Luna, who lingered just a touch longer in Hermione's arms than was quite decent, a fact which Draco did not allow to go unnoticed.

"The funniest thing happened a few moments ago," Luna began, ignorant or oblivious of the waves of animosity seething off of Hermione. Draco felt it all, though, and it was all he could do to keep track of the conversation unfolding between the two women. He hadn't been this close to her in, Merlin, had it been ten years since the day his damned ego ruined everything for good? She looked good, her hair wrangled into an elaborate updo which seemed to make every errant curl whisper of careless grace and barely-contained tempests. One stray coil framed her cheek, leading his gaze back to her hostile eyes. He stiffened and tuned back into what Luna was saying once again.

"And then we came over to say hello to you," Luna finished with a radiant smile.

"Yes.. um, hello," Draco offered lamely, feeling as pathetic as Weaselby, unable to force his brain to cooperate while it was busy screaming at him that he didn't deserve to breathe the same air she did. Hermione did not look impressed by his poor showing, and somehow, that angered him enough to push through the veil of self-pity which clung to him like wet silk whenever she entered the room.

He swallowed, trying to find the words.

***

_I want you to notice_

_When I'm not around_

_You're so fuckin' special_

_I wish I was special_

_***_

The clock struck the hour just as he opened his mouth to speak, cutting him off. Hermione seized the opportunity without hesitation, talking over the end of the chime.

"Oh my, would you look at the time?" She said, looking from the face of the great clock and back to Luna and Draco in a rather exaggerated gesture. "I really must be heading home. It was so nice to see you, Luna." The finality of his exclusion from even pleasantries hit like a fist to the gut. To her, he wasn't even worth pretending to be polite to. He watched her walk away staring into the distance long after the crowd shifted to cover her departure from sight.

"Are you going to just stand there, or are you going to go after her, you stupid boy?"

"What did you call m--" Luna put a finger to his lips.

"Not now, there isn't any time to waste. If you go now, you'll catch her at the floos. Hurry up." Luna gave him a shove, and without thinking he obeyed her, making his way through the crowd, which parted with ease around him, up the stairs to the hall of fireplaces which connected the ministry to the vast floo network.

The room was deserted, a rare occurrence for such a busy thoroughfare, and a coincidence for which Draco was grateful. The low, sensible heels of her shoes clattered on the tile floor, echoing almost unbearably. He couldn't speak. What could he say to her, after all this time? But he couldn't just stand there, wallowing in regret until this chance slipped him by. Steeling his nerve, his called out.

"Wait, Granger. Could I talk to you, for a moment, before you go?" The brisk click of heels on tile halted at his words. He was almost afraid to watch, afraid she'd carry on as if she hadn't heard him and he'd be left standing in an empty room, like a fool. But she didn't. Instead she stopped, turned, and waited, a long-suffering expression on her face, and for what seemed like the first time in ten years, she looked at him. His apprehension vanished like a startled demiguise and before he could think better of it he had closed the distance between him to a few feet and dropped to his knees, head bowed.

"What I did to you, the things I said, were unconscionably cruel and uncalled for. I make no excused, and expect no forgiveness, but I wish to convey to you my sincerest apologies for the way I treated you. I was stupid, and wrong, and you deserved better." He couldn't see her face, prostrate as he was before her, and a thousand thousand horrifying reactions played through his mind as he waited in the silence which followed, marked only the rise and fall of his breath and the quiet rustle of fabric.

A minute passed. Then another. When the silence grew unbearable, Draco lifted his gaze, expecting to meet furious, unforgiving eyes and instead finding only air. She was gone.

***

_But I'm a creep_

_I'm a weirdo_

_What the hell am I doing here?_

_I don't belong here._

_I don't belong._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Next up is a chapter from Hermione's perspective which should shed a bit more light on the event Draco feels is unforgivable.
> 
> Lyrics are "Creep" by Radiohead


	2. Crazy

_I remember when, I remember, I remember when I lost my mind_

_There was something so pleasant about that place._

_Even your emotions had an echo_

_In so much space_

***

Hermione stared, slack-jawed, for almost a full minute before her brain finally kicked itself into gear and formulated a plan. Glad she'd been practicing unvoiced spellcasting, she thought, mufflato very pointedly and flickered her wand in the gesture for the silencing charm, indicating on her shoes and retreated until she could barely see him, gathering a camouflage spell around her as she went with a practiced effort of will and a quick slash of her wand.

Of all the things she'd expected Draco Malfoy to have to say to her, an apology had seemed so unlikely it hadn't even made the list. She'd long ago accepted that they'd just been too different---that even if they were otherwise perfectly suited to each other, their backgrounds and chosen families would always stand in the way of their union. It was a pragmatic decision, and one she'd thought she'd mad her peace with, until that day she'd seen him in the hallway at the Ministry and it had all come flooding back.

How could he have toyed with her heart like that? Make her think that he cared, then toss her aside when it became clear she wasn't what his family had in mind for their only son. She'd almost lost her composure, but the thought of losing Solicitor Jenning's support on her latest elfish welfare measures had been sobering enough to allow her to pull herself together and finish the meeting.

She hadn't dared risk another glance at his face. Had he seen her? Did he even remember her, or was she just another long-forgotten face of his school days? They’d all been going through the motions, in those first days after the end of the war. Maybe he’d forgotten all about her, his mind shutting away the memories in an effort to preserve his sanity. Or maybe she just hadn’t been worth remembering.  

She cried into her salad, alone in her office for lunch that day, and wondered why she hadn't just hexed him all those years ago and saved herself the pain of reopened wounds. But the fantasy was cold comfort, and she'd been left vaguely off-kilter ever since---more than capable of going through the motions when others were around, but ill-at-ease in her own company. She didn't like it, and she didn't like him for rousing those feelings within her.

***

_And when you're out there_

_Without care,_

_Yeah, I was out of touch_

_But it wasn't because I didn't know enough_

_I just knew too much_

***

When he finally looked up, she expected him to stand up, to roll up his contrite persona like a suit and slip back into the air arrogant of confidence she'd once been so familiar with. Instead he simply stared at the air where she'd stood, as if he couldn't believe his eyes. Slowly, his head drooped, shoulders slumping as he seemed to collapse in on himself. The distorted echos of his voice reached her ears, words lost to distance but the anguish of it visceral enough to lodge in her gut. In fascinated horror, Hermione realized that she was watching Draco Malfoy weep.

She almost reached out to him, but the raw pain of betrayal, so old and yet still so fresh, stilled her hand. How could she comfort him while in the depths of her own agony? Within a few moments, her decision no longer mattered. He stilled his shaking shoulders and regained his feet, his face a stony mask. A few brisk steps brought him before the nearest flue, where he took a pinch of the bright green powder from the attendant vase and tossed it into the flames.

"Malfoy Manor, south wing study," He said into the resulting emerald blaze voice cracking slightly over his own name. Hermione watched as he disappeared into the flames, mind working through the words of his apology as she struggled to make sense of this sudden shift in her reality.

" Home," she murmured, coming to a decision. She would feel better at home, in a hot bath, with Crookshanks judging her from on high. Turning herself towards the nearest flue, she tried not to imagine the heat of his fingers lingering in the magical green sand.

"221B Brownlee Place," she told the flames, stepping forward and allowing the magic to fill her perceptions and sweep her away.

***

_And I hope that you are having the time of your life_

_But think twice, that's my only advice_

***

In the familiar quiet of her modest duplex, Hermione neatly stripped her heels and returned them to their polaroid-marked box on the shelf in her closet. Crookshanks waited until her feet were bare to wind his way affectionately around her ankles---he'd always been perceptive of such things. Now well over fifteen years old, she was certain he was part kneazle, though she doubted he ever deign to confirm such a suspicion.

Welcoming the distraction, she bent down to scratch absently around his ears. Crookshanks tolerated this briefly, then darted away from her and neatly up the series of small ascending shelves which led to his lofty walkways.

On the kitchen table, where the owls usually left her post when she wasn't home to receive it, Hermione found a large, plain brown envelope. In the center was her name, and her address, but there were no other markings that she could see.

"Maybe it's a souvenir from Ron?" She wondered aloud, inspecting the paper over and over. The envelope bulged on one side, lumpy, as if it contained more than just paper.

It was conceivable that Ron, ever forgetful, might neglect to put his own name on a package he was sending. He'd hardly had time to write since the Cannons took the World Cup the first year he played for them, and as team captain he was busier than ever. Taking the silver-handled letter opener from her desk Hermione neatly sliced open the envelope and dumped its contents gently onto the table.

A silver bracelet rolled out, spinning helplessly several times as it settled. Hermione was quickly entranced by the hammered metal and the glittering green gemstones embedded around its circumference. The whole thing was polished to a high shine which caught and reflected the magical candle light in a mesmerizing dance. Discarding the envelope in a daze, Hermione reached for the bracelet.

When her fingers touched the metal, she felt a hum of magic, and the bracelet disappeared. Blinking several times in confusion, her eye caught the glint of silver on her wrist.

“Great, just what I needed,” she groaned, slumping into a dining chair. Hermione pulled at the band on her wrist, but it stayed put. No matter how she tried to slip it over her hand, it always seemed to slip back into place at the last second. After a few minutes of trying, she gave up.

“Maybe I can just call Bill? If I don’t go through dispatch, the rumor mill might not even notice.” But as the gears in her mind turned, Hermione dismissed the idea. “No, that won’t work. Bill and Fleur and in Romania for the next six weeks, at least.” That’s what Molly Weasley had told her in the last letter she’d sent, anyway. 

Unwilling to just sit around, waiting for whatever curse was in the bracelet to take effect, Hermione turned to her oldest, most comforting habit: study. Rising, she crossed the dining room into her library and began searching the spines for anything that might be helpful to her current predicament. Though she hadn’t had much use for curse-related texts in recent years, as her career in the Department of Magical Creatures had taken off, she’d acquired several potentially useful texts during and after the war which she had not returned to Ministry care when it became apparent that ending the war had done very little to change the status quo of magical governance and society.

“What does it even do?” Hermione wondered, easing her now precariously-stacked tower of books onto the end table beside the fire and settling herself into the extremely comfortable chair beside it for some serious reading.

***

_Come on now, who do you, who do you, who do you, who do you think you are,_

_Ha ha ha bless your soul_

_You really think you're in control_

***

Several hours later, the familiar whoosh of floo magic pulled Hermione reluctantly from her reading. Looking somewhat unhappily up from her book, she found Ginny’s head in the fireplace, an expression of longsuffering patience on her face. Aware she had Hermione’s attention, Ginny wasted no time launching into speech.

“Finally! The last three times I popped in, I couldn’t get you to look up, no matter how loudly I said your name. I almost came all the way through last time, but then the baby started crying and Harry wasn’t home yet…” Ginny trailed off, visibly working her way back to her original point from her digression. Hermione simply stared. How had she missed multiple talking heads in her fire?

“Anyway, how are you? Luna said you left the fundraiser early. That isn’t like you,” Ginny asked.

“I ran into Draco Malfoy,” Hermione said without thinking, only realizing after the words were out of her mouth that she hadn’t meant to say that at all.

“Draco Malfoy? Is he back in the country?” Ginny asked. Something about her tone seemed off, but Hermione was so preoccupied she hardly noticed.

“He’s been back for months. I saw him at the ministry earlier this summer,” Hermione confirmed without meaning to.

“You saw him and you didn’t tell me?” Ginny nearly shrieked. “I can’t believe you!”

“I didn’t want to bother you with my problems,” Hermione started, wanting to remain as vague as she could with her friend about her feelings concerning Draco Malfoy. She certainly wasn’t ready to talk to her about the apology he’d given her tonight. But heedless of her desires, she felt herself continue, “Telling you about it would’ve made it more real, and I didn’t want to admit that it was a problem to myself until I ran into him tonight with Luna. I tried to just leave, but he followed me to the floos and apologized to me.”  
“He apologized?” Ginny asked, curious. “Like, a real apology, or a ‘sorry you had feelings I regret nothing’ apology?”

“Like a real apology. On his knees and everything.” Now alarmed at her uncontrollable honesty, Hermione looked down at the bracelet on her arm in horror. “Is that what this does? Oh no.”

“What are you talking about?” Ginny craned her neck, trying to see, but from where her head rested in the fire, she didn’t have the best view of the room. After several seconds of frustrated straining, she huffed out a sigh. “Wait a minute. I’ll be right there. Harry, I’m going to check on ‘Mione, watch the—” Her voice faded as she pulled her head from the fire.

***

_My heroes had the heart to lose their lives out on a limb_

_And all I remember is thinking, I want to be like them_

_Ever since I was little, ever since I was little it looked like fun_

_And it's no coincidence I've come_

_And I can die when I'm done_

*** 

Several moments later there was another pop and a change in the air pressure, and Ginny was in the room with her.

“Now what are you looking at?” She demanded, grabbing Hermione’s arm so she could better see.

“This was in an envelope on my dining table when I got home from the fundraiser,” Hermione indicated the bracelet on her wrist. “It disappeared when I touched it and reappeared on my wrist, and then I couldn't take it off. I’ve been reading up on cursed objects ever since, to see if this was something I could handle myself.”  
“Why didn’t you just go see Bill?” Ginny asked at once.

“He’s out of town. Don’t you read your mother’s letters?”

“Not the most recent one. Too much to do around the house before I go back to the Harpies and not enough time to sleep, let alone read letters. Do you know that last week I had to hide in the doxy cupboard to eat a peanut butter sandwich uninterrupted?”

Hermione laughed. Harry and Ginny had three children, each one as independent and adventurous as their parents. It made for quite a rambunctious household. She could just imagine Ginny, hunkered down in the cupboard they’d spent so many hours ridding of doxies, just to get a moment’s peace while her children ran amok in the house. “Kreacher is having a fantastic time, isn’t he?”

“He’s absolutely overjoyed. I’ve never seen the rotten old elf so pleased,” Ginny admitted dryly. “Now if only Harry could convince him to stop wailing every time we try to take down the Black family tree, we’d be alright. But I didn’t come here to talk about my home’s resident elf. Tell me more about this cursed bracelet.”

“Far as I can tell, all it’s done so far is compel the complete truth to any question I’m asked,” Hermione began, “it came in an unmarked envelope.” She paused, remembering something. “I didn’t check the envelope very thoroughly after I dumped out the bracelet. Maybe there’s something else?” A quick glance at the table yielded no envelope, so she began scanning the floor for it. She found it underneath Crookshanks’ backside, one end now frayed by claw marks.

“Find anything?” Ginny asked, stifling a giggle at the indignant expression Crookshanks turned on Hermione when she removed him from his prize. Hermione searched inside the envelope, and then on the floor around the table.

“Nothing.” She grimaced.

“Guess you’re gonna have to call the curse breakers,” Ginny said, matter-of-fact.

“Oh no. Padma Patil is working for their dispatch. If I call for a curse breaker, the whole office will know I put on a cursed bracelet before they’ve even sent someone to sort me out. I’d never hear the end of it. Hermione Granger, witch of her age, done in by a cursed trinket.” Hermione sank into a chair, head in her hands.

“Fine, fine, I won’t call the ministry dispatch. I’ve got a friend who maybe knows somebody in the curse breakers. Maybe we can grapevine you some help a little more quietly?” Ginny offered, moving to place a comforting hand on Hermione’s shoulder.

“You think that would work?”

“Would you rather Padma find out about this?”

Hermione blanched. “Absolutely not. Do whatever you can to avoid it.”

Ginny nodded. “If that’s the case, I’d better get back home. I’ve got a few visits to make, and I want to make sure I’m there to kiss the kids goodnight. Kreacher should be finishing up his story any time now.”

“You let Kreacher tell bedtime stories?”

“He’s really quite good at it,” Ginny insisted. “Now you just stay here and lay low. I’ll send someone over by floo as soon as I’m able.”

Hermione nodded. “Thanks, Ginny. You’re a true friend.”

Ginny smiled, something almost sad in her eyes, but Hermione didn’t think anything of it. Her friend disapparated with a pop, and she was alone with her thoughts once more. Compulsive honesty wasn’t a terribly common curse, nor a terribly dangerous one, so why did she feel as if things would only get worse from here?

Trying to shake the premonition of foreboding from her awareness, she headed towards her bathroom. Ginny couldn’t possibly have anyone to her flat within a half hour. She had plenty of time to shower. Stripping out of her formalwear, forgotten in the resulting confusion of donning the bracelet and rumpled by her hours curled up reading by the fire, she stepped beneath the spray of hot water and let it wash her worries away. Ginny would find somebody to help her get the bracelet off, and she would be able to forget this horrible day ever happened.

***

_Does that make me crazy?_

_Does that make me crazy?_

_Does that make me crazy?_

_Probably_

_***_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Lyrics are "Crazy" by Gnarls Barkley

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a review if you enjoyed the story so far and want to read more. I appreciate all of the reviews thus far, and love hearing from new people who enjoy my work.


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